


Dumblydoor at Summer Camp

by Twisted_Magic



Series: Dumbledore the Buffoon [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2013 ficlets, Crack, Everybody Lives, Humor, Muggles, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Magic/pseuds/Twisted_Magic
Summary: When Rose Weasley decides to try a Muggle summer camp, she is surprised to find that Albus Dumbledore is one of the camp counsellors. Let's just say that Dumbledore and non-magical settings don't really go well together.





	Dumblydoor at Summer Camp

**Author's Note:**

> Just another (hopefully) funny ficlet that I've uncovered from my 2013 works, with some minor editing. Dumbledore is alive and well and still the headmaster, and also a bit of a nonsensical goofball. I hope you find it an amusing read!

Rose Weasley sighs as she drops her bag onto the floor next to a bunkbed. She has just finished her first year at Hogwarts, and frankly, she needs a bit of a break from all the magical overload she has been subjected to this past year. Her mother Hermione had suggested she try a summer camp out in the woods; literally the most Muggle experience someone could ever have. So here she is, ready for the complete and authentic Muggle Experience™.

Rose readjusts the wand hidden under her shirt as she looks around the small cabin. Several other girls have taken up the remaining seven bunkbeds, leaving Rose with a bottom bunk next to a broken and drafty window. _This is going to be a long two weeks._

Just then, a cloud of perfume drifts over to Rose's bed and instantly makes her eyes start watering. _Maybe just one spell..._ But she resists the urge and instead suppresses a gag, hurrying to the door and gratefully stepping outside. Rose closes the door behind herself and takes a breath of fresh air as she looks around at the campground. Three cabins make a circle around a large campfire pit with logs gathered around it. The noon sunlight casts shadows on the three paths that cut into the surrounding forest: one leading to a mess hall, another to the lake and playground, and the last heading out of the camp. She watches a group of rowdy teenage boys crowd into the cabin on her right, their laughs echoing through the forest. Rose's gaze sweeps over the camp counsellors’ cabin, but then does a double take when she sees a glint of silver hair...

“Professor Dumbledore??” Rose shrieks to herself. Sure enough, the headmaster is dragging a huge purple suitcase into the counsellors’ cabin. He is wearing socks with sandals, and has a bare chest with his long beard tucked into a pair of fuchsia Bermuda swim trunks. Despite her shock at seeing her headmaster of all people, she has to hold back yet another gag at the unpleasant sight; seeing a one hundred and fifty year old man’s hairy back is not something she ever wanted to see _._  But still, Rose hops down the stairs and jogs up to the counsellors’ cabin.

Rose knocks on the now-closed door, and she jumps when it is answered immediately. She steps through the doorway and frowns when she realizes that no one is anywhere near the door.

“Merlin’s beard, hello!” Professor Dumbledore smiles at her as he slips his wand into his suitcase. _Did he just use his wand to open the door?_  Rose shakes her head as she eyes the other counsellors chatting nearby and returns the smile.

“Hello, headmaster,” she greets

Dumbledore chuckles. “No need to call me that. For the next two weeks, just call me Dumbledore.” _Now this camp isn’t getting weirder, no, not at all._

“So what are you doing here?” Rose asks cautiously. Dumbledore begins to unpack.

“Why, I’m a camp counsellor. I wanted to get out in nature for bit, so I convinced the camp director to assign me, despite my age.” Dumbledore unzips the front section of his suitcase and pulls out two large handfuls of socks. He drops them in a heap in the drawer of his bedside table. Rose frowns as Dumbledore pulls out two more handfuls of socks, then another, then another, until the drawer is overflowing. Dumbledore frowns.

“What a conundrum,” he mumbles. He looks around to make sure the other counselors are busy before he pulls out his wand again and quickly waves it over the drawer. Suddenly, the socks fit perfectly.

“A little trick I learned from your mother,” Dumbledore winks.

“But shouldn’t we not use magic around muggles?” she whispers, thinking of the law drilled into her by said mother. Dumbledore laughs.

“But then this camp wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?” he says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

_This camp just got even longer._

 ***

Since Rose has always lived in a wizarding household, she has never truly experienced the life of a muggle. Although she doesn’t really know how the ‘traditional camp activities’ are supposed to work, or what the purpose of them is, she is surprised to find that the rest of the camp is very fun.

She and the other campers bird watch, make shelters, track bears, and jump into the lake from the top of a tree. Dumbledore even organizes a knitting circle and shares his knitting pattern magazines. They learn which bugs are okay to eat and which ones are poisonous; a kid accidentally eats a poisonous bug, so Dumbledore uses magic to ‘urge his body not to die’, as Dumbledore puts it. The counsellors realize they forgot to bring food for meals, so Dumbledore gives all of them muggle candy he had stashed in his cabin against the rules. Rose chokes on a lemon drop and learns how to use the Heimlich maneuver on herself.

_This is such a great summer._

***

Two weeks later, Rose wakes up to the screeching on an owl. She jumps out of bed and finds it is sitting on her bedside table. The other girls groan in their sleep, but don’t wake up. She returns her gaze to the owl and sees that it is holding a letter. She jokingly rolls her eyes. Another ‘text’ from Dumbledore. Ever since Dumbledore had discovered the wonders of texting the other day, he has been sending her messages by this tiny owl he had captured in the woods. Rose pulls off the square of parchment from its leg and unfolds it to find one line in looping calligraphy.

From Bumble Dumble: Sick mornin’ bro! Sup? Ttyl, brb, LOL!!

Rose nods in respect for Dumbledore’s quick learning, but then she sighs when she realizes that she will be going home today. She writes her reply to Dumbledore on the back of his text, asking him if he would like to continue practicing his texting over the summer. She gives the note to the owl and watches it swoop out of the window and across the camp clearing, and she smiles. 

_Hogwarts will be so much better with texting._


End file.
